What's Left of Me
by anhanninen
Summary: For 15 years Edward Cullen believed his wife and child died in a car accident on a snowy night. They said she couldn't have survived—that she'd been swept into the river. He was forced to live a life without her, to function and be the man she would have wanted. But now, a young girl proves everything he thought was a lie and he's faced with a truth he may not be prepared for.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you absolutely positive that you need to leave so soon?" Edward asks, cupping Kate's cheeks in hands as she smiles sadly.

"I'm sorry, love. Duty calls and whatnot, and speaking of which . . ." Lifting his wrist up, she checks the time. "You're going to be late if you don't shower soon."

He leans down, pressing his lips to her neck. He can be a little late, considering the circumstances. "I don't care. How long will you be gone for this time, anyway?"

"At least a few weeks. Seriously, Cullen. You _are_ going to be late. You have lives to save, remember?" She grins, tilting his chin to press her lips to his. "Get a shower. Now."

"You're no fun," he sighs, sitting up on his knees. "Fine, I'll shower, but you have to join me."

She smirks, rolling her eyes as she follows him off the bed and pulls one of his old Navy shirts over her head. "You are most certainly going to be late, but it's your own damn fault."

"I accept the responsibility." He grins, watching she flings off her panties and heads into the bathroom.

He probably won't be late, but even if he is, it's worth it. She's leaving for god know's where this afternoon, heading for certain danger because it's her job as special ops. He used to know where she was before he left the Navy, used to have the same security clearance, and knew if something happened. Now she can't tell him much about her missions, not even their location or how long they might actually last. She's been back in his bed for a week after _three months_ away—which was, _'at least a few weeks,"_ long too.

Eight years ago they met in his small aid station outside of Fallujah. She was brought in with shrapnel injuries which required surgery. After Edward saved her life, she stuck around for a few days to recover and they found they shared a lot in common. It was just her first tour, compared to his third, but during the fighting and horror surrounding them, the two found peace with each other. Of course it wasn't until after she healed and returned some months later that their relationship escalated, but it's always remained the same.

While everything else around them is chaotic and often unknown, they've always been each other's constant. Now that Edward's left the Navy, though, it's been different. The distance isn't any longer than before, but it's harder now. She comes in and out of his life like a hurricane. He's settled in Seattle now and bought an apartment near the water, just blocks from his new job as an attending trauma surgeon at Harborview. He loves it; oddly enough. He worried he'd be bored after spending the last fourteen years in the Navy, but the city keeps him busy.

With his family just a few hours away in Port Angeles, it's exactly what he wants . . . except that Kate never stays. He loves her; he knows that, but he also knows _her._ While she thrives in the battlefield, he's found a place to do what he loves without bombs being dropped over his head.

"Call as often as you can," he tells her, kissing her gently as they stand under the showerhead. "And don't die."

"Jeez, thanks. I'll try not to," she laughs. "I'll be back before you know it."

"A few weeks is a little bit more than a blink of an eye, sweetcheeks. Have you, uh, thought about something stateside? FBI, CIA?"

She cocks her head, running her hands through her wet hair. "No, why? Have you heard something?"

Grabbing her soap off the shelf, he pours some in his hands before rubbing them together. "No, I just thought . . . I live in a major city, which has plenty of job opportunities for you—"

"I love my job, Edward. There's nothing wrong with it."

"I know, but I didn't know if you'd consider something else. Local."

Stepping back and out of his hands, she narrows her eyes and he knows he's made a serious mistake. "I'm not ready to leave the military. You were."

"All right, I wasn't sure. I was just curious." He puts his hands out, covered in her soap. "I'm sorry, Kate. Forget about it, please?"

Sighing and turning around, stepping back toward him, she nods. "I love you, Edward. You know that, right?"

"Of course," he says, kneading his hands into her shoulders. She loves him. If that's all he can get, he'll take it. She's still young compared to his thirty-four years. At twenty-seven he understands she's not ready for more yet, but someday she might be. And he loves her enough to wait.

"Be safe, please," he murmurs in her ear.

"Always am," she promises. "Keep the comfy bed warm for me."

* * *

Cutting it slightly close to being late, Edward pretends as if he's not in a hurry as he rushes into the hospital just in the nick of time. He has a morning full of scheduled procedures—two take-backs for trauma and three scheduled general surgeries, all before one in the afternoon. Knowing his first surgery isn't for another thirty minutes once he finishes rounds, he decides to backtrack and head for coffee.

He walks up a block to his favorite small shop, ordering a large black coffee and a pumpkin muffin when he notices it in the glass. September eighth seems a little early for the pumpkin-everything-season, but he's not complaining considering it's his favorite. Handing over a ten to Ms. Ellen, the elderly woman who owns the shop, he smiles and tells her to keep the change before heading back to the hospital.

Biting into the muffin as he stops at the intersection and waits for his light to change, he looks up to see a young girl in the crosswalk to his left. With the hoodie on her jacket up and white earbuds hanging from her neck, she smiles at him as their eyes meet for a brief moment before hears the screech of tires. Glancing back, a black car barrels toward the girl and Edward yells, but there's no time for her to move. As she slams into the windshield and topples over the roof, he's running and watches her land in a crumpled heap on the pavement.

He gets to her in seconds, falling to his knees at her side and checking for a pulse. The thump against his fingertips give him some hope as he yells for yelp. "Don't move, sweetheart." She doesn't, just lets out a groan with closed eyes. There's blood gushing from her head and he pulls his jacket off as people rush forward. "Hold her still for me," he tells a nurse as she drops down beside him. "Edward Cullen."

"Leah," the brunette says, doing as he asks while he tries to listen to the girl's chest by placing his ear to it.

He curses as the wail of sirens starts just down the road. _Thank Christ we're so close._ They're a block and a half from the hospital, so the girl's lucky in one aspect. "Her left lung is collapsed," he says, eyeing the rest of her mangled body. _Open compound tibular fibular fracture, blunt head, chest, and abdominal injuries, probable major internal bleeding . . . Fuck._ "Hang in there for me, kiddo," he whispers near the girl's ear. "I'll take care of you; I promise."

He can't promise shit and he knows he's probably lying, but they need to keep her calm. He realizes she's younger than he thought, definitely under fifteen from her facial features and size. _A little too small._ She's thin and pale as a ghost under the blood on her skin. This child is quite literally dying in front of him and the two minutes it takes for them to get her into the ambulance seems like an eternity. He and Leah work seamlessly with the paramedics, loading her up and taking her right away. She gets intravenous access as he performs a needle decompression and they're at the hospital before they can do anything else.

The girl's vitals are weak—her blood pressure dropping by the second it seems. Moving her over to the trauma room gurney, Edward gives orders and pulls on a gown and gloves before stepping up to the girl's side. She's on their monitors, the anesthesiologist is putting an endotracheal tube, and a resident is getting better access with a central line. The nurses and techs swarm around the room in organized chaos as Edward pours betadine over the girl's chest and grabs the scalpel from the chest tube tray. It's a violent procedure and he has to keep himself from thinking about her age as he cuts into her chest to insert a large tube.

Blood _pours_ from her and the x-rays soon show why. She's bleeding out into her chest and abdomen, the images covered in the dark areas of blood. They run fluids and blood into her, trying to keep her alive until they can get her into surgery.

"Let's get her to CT!" he says over the voices of his team. "Where's neuro?"

"Dr. Bradley's here—he'll meet you in CT," Sue, one of the nurses says as they prep the girl for transport.

"Did we find ID?"

"No, just an old polaroid and busted iPod," Jack, another nurse says. "Bagged 'em for the cops. Jane Doe?"

"Janie," Leah says, piping up from the corner of the room, meeting his green eyes with hers. "It's the child version. S-sorry, I didn't want to leave yet."

"What department are you in?"

"PICU," she sighs. "I'll see her later . . . right?" Her hands shake as she holds them together. She's _never_ witnessed a trauma case, having spent her short career in peds. She literally just transferred to the pediatric intensive care unit, which is her dream job, so all of this is . . . _holy friggin' shit._

Edward smiles for her, a little worried about how pale she is. "I'll do everything I can. Take a seat, get something to drink, and hopefully in a few hours you'll have a new patient."

She nods, biting her lip. "Uh-huh. She doesn't look like a Jane or Janie, you know? The red hair and freckles . . . She's a Lucy."

He gently tilts his head for Jack to watch out for her. "Lucy Doe, it is. Jack's going to help you to a chair. I'll let you know how she does. Thanks for jumping in with me."

She nods again, this time remaining silent as her eyes flicker between the tall surgeon and little girl. She heads out of the door and finds a desk chair for a quick breather as she watches them rush their Lucy out of the room. Glancing at her watch, she realizes she's incredibly late and hopes this excuse flies on her _first_ day on the floor . . . which is literally across the massive hospital from here.

* * *

The CT quickly shows a subdural hematoma on Lucy Doe's brain, which could very likely kill her. Dr. Peter Bradley is a great neurosurgeon, which gives Edward some hope but he knows her belly and chest are going to be a battle. She's losing blood faster than they can replace it and he's honestly worried. The image of the car hitting her is still fresh in his mind and though he can't be sure, he imagines it was going upwards of forty miles an hour. It barely braked and didn't stop, which infuriates him. He has no doubt the police will catch the driver, but he wishes the piece of shit could feel the amount of pain this child has felt.

Talking over the two major operations and their plans, they scrub together and watch as Lucy is prepped. Her vitals are even worse and they need to hurry to have any chance of saving her life. "We got her quick, man," Peter says, following him into the OR with his arms raised out in front of him.

They quickly gown and gloves as Edward nods. "Thank god." Stepping up to the table and asking for a scalpel, he makes a long incision from just below to sternum to below her navel. His first task is to pack her full of lap pads to pray that slows the bleeding enough for him to work on her injured lung. "She smiled before I saw her get hit," he says. "Make sure she can do it again because it was the brightest smile I've ever seen."

"I'll try to leave facial nerves intact," he says, making his incision along the side of her head. He keeps it as small as possible and in her hairline, so she'll most likely barely notice it. "How old do you think she is?"

"Thirteen, maybe," he sighs, finding her belly full of blood. "Goddamn it."

A monitor goes off and he knows it's her fucking blood pressure tanking. He made a promise to this kid, whether she knows it or not, and he doesn't plan on failing. He's handled worse throughout his tours with the Navy—Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, and Syria, he's been through the middle east and witnessed absolutely horrific things. Why she's a mission to him now he's not sure, but he's damn sure going to do everything in his power to save her.

"She's in V-Fib," the anesthesiologist calls out as every alarm seems to sound at once.

* * *

They spend hours working on the poor girl. Though Peter removes the clot and repairs her blood vessels, Edward's worried she was down too long. It took cracking her chest to get her heart rhythm stabilized, which was where he found an injury to her aorta that caused the bleeding her chest. He managed to repair it and then focused on her abdomen, finding her spleen a ruptured mess and her liver torn nearly in half.

He's honestly not sure how she's still alive after the brain, chest, and abdominal trauma—and she's not out of the woods yet. She also has multiple fractures throughout her small body, from her skull, ribs, pelvis, leg, and wrist. She's like a shattered doll they're still putting back together. The orthopedic surgeons stabilized her fractures for now, but they'll need to go back in within twenty-four to forty-eight hours to insert rods, plates, screws, and pins. First, though, her body needs a chance to rest after the massive trauma she's suffered.

Writing up his list of post-op orders for the nurses, he stands at the foot of the bed and glances up at her monitors every so often. She's the most stable she's been in their care, but he's still worried about her. He knows he could task a resident to sit with her, but leaving right now doesn't sit well with him.

"I think I'm going to hang around with her for a little while," he says, looking up at the last nurse who remains.

She smiles, nodding as she pulls the recliner closer to the bed. "She needs a little extra attention, if you ask me."

He can't help but agree, remembering the old fractures throughout the child's body. The x-rays paint a scene of abuse, which has probably lasted years. She's thin because she's dangerously malnourished and has obviously been neglected. He feels _rage_ at the person responsible for this little girl. She's just a child and has faced more than he can imagine.

"I'll let you know if anything changes," he says, offering a smile before she heads for the door, stopping short.

"Oh, the police are here," she says, looking back at him. "Probably for her, right?"

Following her out of the room, he finds two officers waiting at the desk. Of course they are here for Lucy Doe, but still don't know who she is. He takes them to an empty room to give his statement of the hit-and-run, finding out the man was stopped a few blocks away and arrested for numerous hefty crimes—attempted murder at the top of the list.

"We've got a sketch of her in the news and with locals school, but so far nothing's come up," Newton, the shorter of the two officers says as he eyes Edward oddly. "You've never met her, right?"

His brow creases as he cocks his head. "Excuse me?"

Pulling a bag from his pocket, he holds the polaroid photo out to him. "She had this on her. I could be wrong, but I can't help but see the uncanny resemblance between this younger man and you."

As hiss eyes fall on the old picture, he's shocked to see his teenage-self next to . . . "Holy shit," he mumbles. "This . . . this picture was Bella's." His nightmare comes back to life as he takes in the picture of them fifteen years ago.

"I'm drawing a lot of conclusions here, Doc, but this kid looks awfully similar to that woman next to you in the picture. It that Bella?"

"She was seventeen weeks pregnant when she went missing," he says solemnly, keeping his eyes on her in the picture. "They found her car and blood, but never found a body. She crashed in the woods and must have . . . She's dead, according to the police."

"And the baby was presumed the same."

Edward swallows back the tears that threaten as he remembers that night. The worst fucking moment of his life. "My daughter . . . sh-she was due January eighteenth, two-thousand-three. She'd be fourteen and th-this . . ."

"This kid's about fourteen, probably, right?"

He nods silently. _It's not possible._ He gave up hope years ago, knowing the likelihood of Bella being alive, let alone their child, is slim to none. It's been fifteen years and twenty six days since she went missing. Could she really have given birth?

"We need to do a DNA test," he says, snapping his eyes to the officer. "And Bella's case . . ."

He nods. "Is her family still around?"

"Her dad passed a few years after she disappeared and her mom's in a memory care unit in Florida—dementia. No siblings."

"Damn. Full name?"

"Isabella Marie Swan Cullen—we-we'd just gotten married."

Writing it down quickly, the officer tucks the notepad back into his pocket and clasps his hand over Edward's shoulder as he stands in utter shock. "The picture is hers," he says. "We have copies, and I'll let you know if I get the DNA order."

"Thanks," he says, feeling as if a tornado just blew through his life. The officers leave the room as he sits silently on the bed. _This can't be possible. My daughter . . ._ Looking up at the door, he quickly stands up and leaves the empty room for Lucy Doe's.

His eyes fall on the red hair under the bandage around her head, the light freckles dotting her cheeks, and he remembers her green eyes—just like his. He's spent the last fifteen years of his life grieving for the love of his life and their daughter and . . . she could have been right here all along.

"Are you mine?" he whispers, sitting down and taking her small hand. _And if you are, where's your mom?_

* * *

Apparently I write mystery now. I think. I've had this idea in my head for years now, so I figured I'd finally write it and see where it takes me. I do promise it'll have a not tragic ending. I mean, it might hurt, but you know me. I comfort my hurt pretty dang good. Like, way too much comfort. And I also promise to finish this, like all of my others. But I am slow and my wedding is in December, so if speed is your thang, maybe put it on your TBR.

Also, please reserve throwing tomatoes at me and Kate. We're not here to hurt you. But 15 years _is_ a long time, so . . . fella's gotta get some.

Oh, and I still don't own Twilight.


	2. Chapter 2

Lemme start off by saying, ermahgerd! Y'all are amazing and I'm absolutely loving your thoughts and opinions of this little fic! First, I should have added a bit of a warning in the first chapter, but I kind of thought no one would touch it. It's heavy. It's not one of my fluffy fics. But, my belief is every Bella loves every Edward and every one of them should end up together in every universe. Because it's Edward and Bella, after all. Please don't be afraid to have an opinion and post it—anon or not. You have every right to criticize and my skin isn't thin. I won't take it personally, but I would love to be able to communicate if you have a question. Also it's short, but I've mostly written the next chapter so it might go up within a few days.

Now, let's get to it.

* * *

As his eyes go from the test results to the heart monitor, watching each beat as it appears, Edward tries to come to terms with his new reality. For _fifteen_ years he thought he lost the greatest love of his life—his childhood sweetheart and soul mate. He thought their child died with her, having never took a breath, never been held, and never knowing the love that created he or she. He was told time and time again for years to move on, to accept that Bella was gone and nothing could bring her back. It took him a long time to even live. He threw himself into his military training, medical school, and residency.

He didn't date or even consider finding someone else—until Kate. She's the only person he's told about Bella and she lets him talk about her, about what their baby could have been, and how much he misses her. She's never asked him to tuck his pain away and move on, which is probably why he was finally able to and fall in love with her.

But now . . .

Their child is _alive._ Somehow she made it at least close to term and everything he believed feels like a lie. He should have known. How, he's not sure, but he should have. His baby girl needed him. Bella _needed_ him, and he gave up. He moved on and all the while, this little girl was out there. She's gone through milestone after milestone without him. God only knows what her life has been like, but he knows it hasn't been easy. Imagining the horrors she may have faced makes him sick to his stomach, and he has so many questions he isn't sure if he can handle the answers for.

The most burning is, of course, if she's alive, could Bella be too?

A knock on the glass door pulls him back to reality and he clears his throat, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tells whoever it is to come in. Expecting a nurse, his eyes widen as his father comes in, sliding the door closed behind him. Consider he hasn't called them yet, he's perplexed his dad made the four hour drive from Port Angeles.

"What are you doing here?" he asks before realizing how it came out. "Sorry, I just—"

Carlisle Cullen nods. "I know. I probably should have called first, but I had to see her for myself." He looks past his son, finding the small girl—his granddaughter—resting as ventilator breathes for her. And he knows Alistair was right. "Alistair James called . . ." he trails off, looking back at Edward.

He should have guessed the chief of staff, who's Carlisle's oldest friend, would have tipped his dad off after visiting early this morning. He can only imagine what people are thinking, but he can't seem to care much. He just wished he could have told his parents himself.

"She has the brightest smile," he chokes out, trying damn hard not to cry. He feels raw—like a live wire just waiting to spark. He doesn't cry, hasn't since Bella disappeared, but he's close. Thinking about what she's been through and what could have happened to her mom, his heart sinks a little more. "I _fucking_ gave up."

"No, you didn't," Carlisle quickly says, slowly coming around to the other side of the hospital bed. "You spent three weeks, from dawn 'til dusk, _scouring_ the woods and river. She was gone, Edward. She was declared dead, so what should you have done?"

 _Kept looking,_ he thinks, swallowing back the lumps in his throat. "She couldn't have died for at least five months, Dad. Five months she was alone. She was pregnant. Where the hell was she?"

Bella Swan grew up under his roof, along with his sons and daughter. He and Esme kept her anytime Charlie had to work late or go out of town. As a single father, he did an incredible job with Bella, but Carlisle saw her as his daughter too. At six Edward and Bella declared they were in love. Of course they weren't quite the _in love_ they'd become, but everyone knew they would be together. Esme called it adorable, Charlie had rolled his eyes, but Carlisle knew what the two kids meant that day. Something in them was connected. They were never more themselves than when they were together—and that didn't change when Bella disappeared.

He lost his son that night, along with his daughter and grandchild. His body remained, but something in him went with her. Carlisle didn't want to push him into moving on, but he couldn't watch his son wither away before his life even began. Bella wouldn't have wanted that either, but now, he understands how his son thinks he gave up. Didn't he do the same?

"Alistair only gave me a little on her injuries," Carlisle says after a few moments of silence. "What's the prognosis? Do you have her chart?"

Edward nods, logging into his tablet and handing it over to his dad. It's easier to let him read the notes than explain all of her injuries. She's shattered—like a porcelain doll dropped on concrete. They can put her back together, and he plans to do so, but she'll bare the scars forever.

Both inside and out.

Aside from answering a few questions about her test results, Edward remains silent with his attention on his daughter as Carlisle reads. He can see parts of himself in her, like his eyes and dimples, but she looks more like Bella, and he can't believe he missed it. The heart shaped face, button nose, and freckles . . . it's like looking at an old photo of Bella. She's swollen and bruised, but he has no doubt she's just as beautiful as her mom.

"Do you know what the next step is, son?" his dad asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. "The police . . . do they know _anything?_ "

He shakes his head solemnly. "The FBI should be here soon. But until they can talk to her or someone comes forward, there's little to be done. I know they've reopened Bella's case and Alistair mentioned something about a lawyer this morning. Probably not a bad idea."

Carlisle nods in agreement as he rests his elbows on his knees, gazing at his bandaged granddaughter. "A lawyer's a smart idea. I'll handle that for you, if you'd like."

The mood shifts slightly and it hits Edward that his dad is asking his _permission_ to help him. When he lost Bella it was easy to push people away, to claim he could handle life on his own, and that led to a lot of years of little communication with his parents and family. He thought he could mend the drift by living closer and visiting a few times a year, but to be honest, he hasn't even been back to Port Angeles since he moved back last year. His siblings come to the city to see him and he's strategically avoided all holidays by taking the shifts most didn't want. He volunteered to work, knowing he didn't have anything waiting for him while his colleagues had spouses and kids, even grandkids.

In the eight years he's known her, Kate and he have only spent one Valentine's Day and a New Year's Eve together. Both of them cared more about their work than taking time off, so they never made it a priority. In fact, now that he thinks about it, he realizes the amount of time they've actually spent together in person equals maybe a couple months. They always communicate when possible, but until recently, it didn't bother him that their relationship was mostly long distance.

"I'm sorry, Dad," he confesses, furrowing his brow as he looks up. "I mean, you've done so much for me. And Mom. God, she might be an actual angel. I haven't shown either of you how much you mean to be lately, and shutting you both out wasn't my intention, but I still did it."

Carlisle just smiles, taking Lucy's other hand in his. "A lot has changed in fifteen years. If we focused on what we did and didn't do, trying to change a past we can't, we'll never live in the present or look toward the future. Seeing this little girl here . . . seeing _you_ with her, there's nothing I want more than the great things the future holds. Before we do anything else, though, you should probably tell your mom."

"I'm not sure if I'm ready," he sighs, thinking about his mother with Lucy—her only granddaughter, which Esme has wanted more than anything. "Maybe, uh . . . you can bring her up tomorrow?"

Laughing, Carlisle nods. "Get used to sharing her."

* * *

Calling Kate isn't an option and while he's messaged her, he knows it's unlikely she'll see it anytime soon. He needs to talk about this. He needs her advice and comfort, but at the same time, he doesn't know what's going to happen next. What happens if Bella's alive? _Jesus Christ, why am I getting ahead of myself?_ He shakes his head, taking a deep breath as he eyes Lucy's monitors.

She's doing about as well as he can hope right now, but complications can arise quickly. He knows he shouldn't treat her. Hell, he's definitely not allowed to after the DNA results, but he can't shut that part of himself down. He's a doctor. His entire life is devoted to savings lives and no life is more precious to him now than hers.

"Hey, sweet girl," he whispers, moving his fingers under her jaw to reassure himself. "You're heavily sedated and _probably_ can't hear me, but they say there's a possibility. If you can, I'm . . . I'm your dad, and I won't let anyone hurt you again. I love you so incredibly much. When I lost you, lost your mom . . ."

He can't finish, knowing he needs to be strong for her. He can't fall apart. No matter what happens next, this girl is his life now and she's been strong long enough. She deserves to be cared for and loved, to be given every chance possible, and to _thrive_ , not cower.

He brushes a piece of hair from her forehead, laying a kiss on it for the first time. He revels in the feeling and wishes so badly he could actually hold her. A part of him—an entirely irrational part—is afraid if he takes a hand off of her, she'll disappear again. He doesn't even want to blink as he pulls his chair closer and sits down, taking her hand in both of his as there's another knock on the door—this time it is a nurse. Leah, in fact.

"Good evening, Dr. Cullen," she says, moving around the room to get Lucy's vitals and draw some blood. "You saved her life. I mean, obviously you did, but when it happened . . . I kind of froze. You ran instantly."

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. "You ran over too, and I can never thank you enough for it. We saved her life. By the way, do I know you?" He's barely thought about it, but seeing her again, he can't help but think he knows her from somewhere.

"Yeah, you took out my appendix last year," she laughs. "It took me a minute at first, too. So, we're even, right?"

"Sure."

Watching as she works, he sees she clearly as a kinship with kids—even talking to Lucy about what she's doing, though it's unlikely she feels any of it. She's a good nurse and did great helping him, so he decides to try and keep her with Lucy while she's on the floor. Now he just needs to narrow down a few others to make sure she gets the best care possible.

"I'll be back soon, Luce," she says, squeezing her left hand before smiling and tucking the vials in her shirt pocket and looking up at him. "Need anything? I'm feeling doughnuts for dinner. Mostly because I brought in two dozen and only put out one, feeling greedy, but now I feel guilty."

She gets an actual chuckle out of him, reminding of his baby sister. "I'd appreciate it, Leah. You're good with her."

"Kids are kinda my thing. I have three younger brothers and my mom passed away when I was ten, so it just comes naturally. Plus, she's a great patient. Not even a squeak from her."

She leaves the room with a smile and he starts to focus on what's next. Aside from the fact that she'll need to go back to the OR within the next few days, there's an entire legal side to all of this he's barely thought of. He's thankful his dad is getting a lawyer because he's already in over his head. Where do you start when you find out you have a fourteen year old daughter you thought _died?_ How does he keep her safe, so the person—or persons—who've hurt her can't come near her again?

Though he spent most of his time in the military as a medic and surgeon, he did see plenty of action in dangerous areas. He's well trained as a soldier and, though they're not the skills he prefers to use, he knows he can disarm and even kill another man if he's left with no choice. It's not something he likes to think about because he doesn't know if he did the right thing, but it _is_ something he knows he's capable of. And to be honest, it's crossed his mind what will happen when he finds out who let his child go without food and dared hurt her.

 _I know if I get a second alone with them, they won't make it to a hospital like she did._


	3. Chapter 3

Meeting the two FBI agents in the hospital conference room down the hall from the PICU, Edward shakes the woman's hand first, glancing at her badge as she introduces herself. "I'm SSA Victoria Hunter and this is my partner, SSA Garrett Fitzgerald. I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Dr. Cullen."

He nods, taking a seat at the table as they do and looking over the closed files in front of him. "Do you know anything yet? If Bella's alive?"

Garrett shakes his head, but opens on of the manila folders. "Not about Bella, I'm afraid, but we do have something on your daughter. Is it still Lucy?"

"Until she can tell me otherwise," he sighs. "What is it?"

The agent taps on a man's photo and Edward doesn't recognize the face. "This is the man who ran down your daughter. The police found numerous connections to organized crime, but he insists it was an accident that he hit her. I talked to him for five minutes this morning and knew he was lying, but we can't prove anything yet. Our team is delving into every single detail of his life, but it's going to take time."

"He's lawyered up with a hell of a good one," Victoria adds. "And his bail hearing is set for tomorrow morning, so we don't have long to find something worth withholding it for. We have some working theories, but until Lucy wakes up and can tell us where she's been, it's like running in circles."

It's been three damn days, and while he wants nothing more than for her to wake up, she's not ready. She'll go back into surgery later this morning, so her small, frail body will need more time to rest. He can't wait to hear her sweet voice and watch her eyes flutter open, but he has no choice for now. If all goes well today, maybe they can wake her up this weekend.

"It'll be a few more days," Edward sighs. "But . . . I'm a little concerned when you say he has mob connections. Is she safe here?"

Garrett nods. "I'll have someone posted outside of her door, if you want. Honestly, the mostly likely thing is he has no connection to your daughter and just wasn't paying attention. We're not going to stop working on figuring out where she's been and who hurt her, and when she does wake up and is ready to talk, just give us a call, all right? We don't want to keep you from her."

"We are truly sorry for not investigating the case sooner," Victoria adds, furrowing her brow as she stands from the desk. "I can't imagine losing my daughter for even a day, and I want to personally assure you that we won't stop until we have answers. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to call us."

Nodding and taking the card she holds out for him, then the one from Garrett, Edward offers a small smile before heading out of the room before them. The five-minute conversation went too long and he hates being away from his baby girl for so long. Thankfully, though, she wasn't left alone.

His mother, Esme Cullen is playing with Lucy's bronze-ish hair and twists the long tresses between her fingers. His heart feels like it could explode as he takes in the scene. Lucy is her first granddaughter—grandchild, technically. Emmett has three boys—Seth at eight and twins Brady and Colin at twelve. And Alice has a two year old boy, JJ. She's wanted and missed this little girl so incredibly much, and it makes him feel good she finally has her.

That they all do.

"Hey, Mom," he says, sitting down on the opposite side of her by the bed. He hands her a cup of tea and she smiles, knowing it's her favorite because he never gets it wrong. "Has anyone come in?"

She shakes her head, blowing softly on her cup. "No, but her nurse is heading this way. It's the much, much too hyper one."

He sighs, refusing to turn around as Jessica comes in with her voice as high pitched as usual. "Good morning! Leah said she had a great night. All good?" she asks and he nods, watching her come around him to check her vitals and change some of her meds.

"She's strong," Esme says, keeping her eyes on Lucy's bruised and scraped face.

She's healing well, but her left cheek bone was fractured and needs to be repaired before she'll truly look like herself. It's almost unnerving to realize how much she does look like Bella. He can't believe he missed it, but her swelling has started coming down, revealing her heart shaped face and soft features. She has his eyes color and her freckles. She has her mom's mouth and nose, his dimples, and her thick, wavy hair. The color is bronze, similar to his, but the color is a little richer and a touch deeper. She's absolutely beautiful and it kills him he missed so many years of her growing.

 _Fuck, I missed it all, really._

After Jessica leaves, promising to be back to prep her for surgery, they sit in silence for a while and just revel in the sight of this incredible child.

"I keep wondering if she smiled at me because she recognized me," he says, lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Hell, she could have just been happy she was away from whoever hurt her, but I just . . . there was a connection in that moment. That smile of hers—I feel like it was _for_ me."

Esme smiles and marvels at the sight before her. She always knew her middle child—brilliant and caring, compassionate and brave—would make an amazing father. He's become a man she's so proud of, even if he's been distant. "I would have to believe it was," she tells him. "What are the chances, after all? So much time has passed and yet there she was, standing in front of you _with_ a smile. That has to mean something."

He's not sure if she's indulging him, but he appreciates her thoughts. Could it really be random that she was right there at that exact same time he was? Maybe, but not as likely without some reason connecting them. At least, that's what he's going to think until proven otherwise.

"What did the FBI agents say?" Esme asks and he just shrugs.

"They need her to wake up, but they're doing what they can to keep the guy who hit her locked up."

He purposely leaves out the mob-aspect, hoping like hell that's not the case. He knows exactly the connection they're looking for, and it kills him to imagine the love of his life hurt and fucking _sold._ He just wants to think that maybe she did get out of the car with a head injury. She might not remember everything she should if it were serious, but wouldn't someone around her have recognized her? It's not like she could have gone that far before he realized she should have been home. She didn't answer her phone and she was never late, not even ten minutes, without calling so he got in his truck and started driving.

A cop had found her car first because he was closing the road due to a downed tree. Edward saw the empty, bloodied car himself and he searched, every second of every day he possibly could. They called off the official search, but he didn't stop. After little sleep over three weeks, his father eventually made him take a few days off, but he kept going out every weekend for a while—until he shipped out on his first tour of duty.

"Well, we've waited fifteen years already, so I suppose a few more days won't hurt," Esme says, smiling peacefully as she caresses Lucy's cheek. When her eyes look up to meet his, though, it falls as she realizes how exhausted he looks. "Why don't you sleep, sweetheart? I'll be right here and it's what, another hour before her surgery? Trust me; you can't help her if you wear yourself down. Just for a little while."

He shakes his head, sighing. He just can't bear to miss anything and his dreams—no, his fucking _nightmares_ aren't helping. He can't help but feel Bella's alive, too. He hears her screams, cries for help, and watches her be snatched from his arms over and over. He sees their innocent little girl, begging for her daddy and the pain is enough to drive him to the floor. It's torture, so it's easier to guzzle coffee and down energy drinks—no matter how unhealthy it is.

"Not right now."

She rolls her eyes, giving him the classic, mother knows best look. He wants to give in so badly. He knows she won't take her eyes of his precious child, but he's more or less _afraid_ to give in. He can't take the nightmares and if something did happen? God, he'd never forgive himself. But . . . she's not wrong about wearing himself down. He needs to be able to take care of her, so maybe an hour or so of sleep won't hurt. It's not like she's going to wake up soon, after all.

"If she so much as twitches, wake me up," he tells her, cocking his brow as she nods. "I'm serious. And I'll have Jessica come in more often, too. So, you'll have to put up with her."

"Well, she wasn't so bad earlier. Yesterday she just would not shut up, Edward. It was grading."

She dramatically sighs and he can't help but laugh. Jess has always been one of those nurses with the perky attitude. Usually, that's a great thing, but hers is a bit . . . much and there's a limit of how much he can handle too. After letting Jessica know he's going to close his eyes and to keep a close eye on his daughter, he heads back into the room to find the recliner ready for him thanks to his mom.

"Seriously, anything at all changes, no matter how miniscule," he says, pulling out his phone and setting an alarm. "Promise you'll wake me up."

Esme nods, looking entirely too proud of herself for what a simple expression can make her son do. "I promise, sweetheart. Get some rest while I spend some time with this beautiful little girl."

* * *

"Let's wake her up!" Coming through the glass door with a smirk, Peter heads straight to the computer in the corner and starts to log in as Edward sips his coffee and watches. Even though he's gotten more sleep thanks to his mom, it's still a little too early for his friend's loud voice. "Her scans from early this morning look great, man. Here."

He turns the monitor as Edward finally stands and leans in, looking at the images of his sweet girl's brain. Her surgery two days ago went well—securing the bones in her leg and left wrist, which was also fractured. In total, she suffered ten broken bones—the two in her lower leg, her radius and ulna, four ribs, and a skull and facial fractures. The shattered doll analogy truly is perfect, but the two orthopedic surgeons who worked on her for hours put her back together without complications. He supposes there isn't much of a reason to keep her sedated now that the swelling in her brain has gone down and if Peter wants her up, it's time.

"I'm worried about controlling her pain, though" he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face as he steps back.

Peter nods, knowing he'd feel the same if it were his son Liam. "We can manage it. Let's just give it a try, all right? If she doesn't handle coming off the vent well, we'll wait a few more days."

It takes imagining what her voice may sound like to finally convince himself to try it. He's terrified he won't be able to control her pain, but Peter's right. She needs to wake up and it's as good a day as any. As Peter finishes up his exam, they call in Leah who's _nearly_ off shift and looks heartbroken, knowing she could miss her little Lucy opening her eyes.

"I'll be here early tonight, just so you know," she says, moving around the bed to change Lucy's meds. "I can't wait to actually meet her. Would you mind if I bring in a gift tonight? If she's awake yet, that is."

Edward smiles, appreciating the kind gesture. "Just don't show me up. I'm thinking some stuffed animals, but then again, I'm not sure what a fourteen year old would like."

"Always stuffed animals," she laughs. "They're cute and I don't think age changes that too much. Maybe flowers at some point, too. Every girl loves flowers. My dad still sends me some on my birthday and Valentine's Day, which could be lame but I enjoy it."

He nods, making a few mental notes on how to shower his little girl with gifts. Obviously not everything at once, but he's got fourteen birthdays and Christmases to make up for at some point and it's not really spoiling her if she actually need the things, right? His mom bought a few of the necessities, but the poor kid doesn't even have two shoes. By the time she hit the ground, only one remained and he threw away the other. He's thankful he's tucked away money over the years because he plans for her to never want for a thing.

* * *

Lucy's breathing on her own by one o'clock in the afternoon and Edward can't take his eyes off of her. Of course, neither can his mother and father. She's going to wake up in her own time, but he so badly just wants that time to be now. _What will her voice sound like? Will she know who I am? God, what's her name?_ So many questions circle around in his head, just waiting to be answered. He doesn't want to bombard her with them, but he feels like he's bursting at the seems—needing to devour every single drop of knowledge she holds.

He has to go slowly, though.

"Where do I start?" he asks, looking over at his parents. "I'll want to know if she's in pain, how she feels, what her name is, where she's been, if she knows who I am, and Jesus, if she doesn't, how do I explain that one? There's just so much, but I can't overwhelm her."

Carlisle nods in understanding, lightly tightening his grip on his granddaughter's small hand. "It's a lot, but let's focus on how she's doing physically first. It's what we'd do with any other patient. She'll tell us her name when she's ready, and if she recognizes you, she'll say so."

"Tell her she's safe and assure her things will be okay," Esme adds, resting her head against her husband's shoulder. She's so excited and nervous, but keeps reminding herself to be calm and patient, like him. "Maybe let her ask you things first, honey. I know we've missed a lot, but we have plenty of time ahead of us, so there's no rush today."

 _She might be too tired to say much,_ he thinks, trying to prepare himself for that possibility. "She could be terrified. I mean, strange people, strange place, and she'll be in pain."

"Quite likely," Carlisle says. "She might need some time and if it's the number of people concerning her, we'll step out. Edward, it's going to be okay. She's not the only one who needs to know that."

He's so fucking nervous, but his dad's right. She's back in his life, so they'll face everything together and it _will_ be okay. He doesn't need to stress what exactly to say because it'll all get said at some point. She'll tell her story and, while he knows it'll be torture to hear, he needs to hear it. He'll make sure she gets all the help she needs and if Bella is alive, they'll find her. He doesn't know anything else at this moment, but that he's sure of.

 _I'm not giving up on her this time. I'll never stop looking because if this is possible, finding her alive is, too. And when I do, I'm not letting either of them out of my sight again._

* * *

 _Why does it always have to hurt to breathe?_ Harlow thinks, wincing as pain radiates through her body. _What's beeping?_ It takes a few moments to adjust to the dim light as her eyes flutter open, but she spots the form beside her almost instantly and gasp, jerking her hand away as his own eyes fly open with a start.

 _Green eyes. Oh my god . . ._

"I-It's you." It's barely above a whisper, but he hears her and his lips curl into a knowing smile. "You're m-my—"

"Dad," he finishes for her as her hand reaches out to him. He quickly takes it back into his own, marveling at how beautiful she is—so _Bella-_ like, but with his eyes. And her sweet voice . . . _She's perfect, angelic._ "You have no idea how much I've missed you, baby girl."

She can't find anymore words yet and just takes him in. He's tall like her momma said. And very handsome, just like the photo. He watches her as she does the same, and she feels like she knows this man already. Her mom never stopped telling her about him, reminding her that there was a man out there who wanted them, needed them, and they needed to get back to him. A wave of anguish washes over her that she isn't here with them, but _she_ made it. She found him, and he'll help her find her momma.

 _I did it, Mom,_ she thinks as her lip pulls into a smile before sending pain across the left side of her face. She flinches, which only brings more waves radiating through her, and tightly closes her eyes, praying for it to stop.

Edward knows something's wrong instantly as he nose scrunches and eyes squeeze closed. He's quick to raise her meds, trying to alleviate any pain as quickly as he can. "I'm so sorry, sweet girl. You were in an accident, but the pain should lessen soon."

Suddenly the memory comes back to Harlow, seeing his face, tires screeching, and then blackness and pain. "Ah-ow," she mumbles, trying to breath through the crushing pain in her chest. Slowly the waves dissipate, but the pain doesn't go away entirely. It gets easier to breathe and she's able to open her eyes again, and instantly searches for his.

He reaches out slowly, touching her cheek ever so lightly as she smiles sleepily. "We've been calling you Lucy, but I'm dying to know. What's your name, baby?"

"Harlow Cullen."

His last name sends his heart soaring as he realizes Bella _did_ name her. He has so many questions and wants to ask them all, but as he starts to say her mom's name, he realizes her eyes have closed again. It's not surprising, but he drops his head with a sign. _It's going to take time._ His patience isn't as vast as it once was now that he's looking at her, but he's going to have to find some while she recovers. And she will; he's sure of it. He'll get his answers at some point, but right now he needs to focus on her—the reality instead of the unknown. His sweet girl, Harlow, is alive. She's talking.

And that's . . . it's an honest to God miracle.

* * *

Hiya! I'm so friggin' blown away by the response to this story. I love all of your theories and I can't thank you all enough for taking the time to read and/or drop a word. Gah! You're all the bestest ever and ILY forever and ever. Just, thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

Harlow watches Edward closely, absorbing every single detail she can—from the freckles on his cheeks to slight bend in his nose. She can hardly believe this is real, but the pain is a constant reminder. She made it out, she's free, but she's not safe. He wants her to speak to federal agents, but she doesn't trust them. People like them know all about the ranch because they're patrons. Yesterday wasn't the first time that badge has been flashed in front of her eyes, so as much as he's begged her, she can't do it. If _he_ finds out she's talked, her mom is dead.

And honestly, just running may have killed her too. _Take the opportunity if it arises,_ Bella told her. _Don't look back and do_ not _worry about me._ But how can Harlow possibly do that? Looking at her dad, she sees the pain in his eyes, the sadness and loss. They mirror her mom's. Bella warned her he moved on, told her she would be heartbroken if he didn't, but Harlow knew better. Despite their harsh reality, they both had a secret dream—one they never spoke of because there was no use. They dreamed he'd find them, save them, and they'd live happily ever after.

But dreams _are_ just that—dreams. Harlow knows better than to imagine one coming true, so finding Edward, seeing how much he missed her, and knowing he wants to find Bella seems impossible. Only it's not.

Reaching up, she gently touches his scruffy cheek and feels the warmth of a _real_ person. This isn't a dream, but she's just not sure how to accept it. "Are you okay, sweet Lo?" Edward asks, smiling as he lays his hand over hers. "Can I do anything for you?"

She shakes her head. "N-No, I'm fine. It's just . . ." She struggles to find the right words, knowing it won't make sense to him. "I don't know. I-I wanted to make sure. I mean, I know you are, but—"

"It's all right, baby girl," he chuckles softly, finding her fluster absolutely adorable. "Just say it."

"Real," she quickly blurts out as her cheeks flush bright red. "It's weird."

He smiles, shaking his head as he squeezes her hand tight. "It's not. I can't tell you how many times I've pinched myself to be sure you're really here, too. You were my greatest dream, little Lo, and now my miraculous reality. It's a lot to take in."

She nods, knowing she's barely wrapped her mind around this new life. There's still so much to say, to do, and to see, and this hospital isn't exactly the most comfortable place to bare your soul to someone. "How much longer do I have to stay here?"

He seems to think for a moment before curling his lip into a smirk. "I was thinking about breaking you out today, actually. Your grandparents and aunt and uncle have been working on the house we're going to live in for a while. It was your mom's childhood home and I bought it a long time ago. It's about four hours away from here, though."

"Good," she says without a thought. _Well, four days' distance would be better, but at least I'm not staying in Seattle._ "I mean—"

"I understand," he assures her, noticing the relief in her expression. "I don't think it's a good idea to stay in the city either, but Forks is remote, rather unheard of, and relatively safe—compared to most towns, at least. We grew up there."

She nods, knowing all about the town from Bella. When Harlow was little, she'd tell her bedtime stories about it, adding in a cast of characters she hopes are real and always ending each story with a perfect happily ever after. It's how she knows who her family members are and little details about them. She shocked Esme by asking if she still knits warm, beautiful scarves and when she referred to her aunt Alice as Tink—the nickname Bella always used—she made her cry, though she assured Harlow they were good tears. Her mom tried so hard to give her a normal life in one that was anything but. She protected her as much as possible, suffered for her, and made sure she had the knowledge she'd need.

For all of that and more, Harlow won't stop until she finds her mom. She wants to bring her home to Forks, to this incredible family, and most of all, to Edward.

Noticing the change in her expression, Edward leans forward to kiss her temple. She snaps out of her daze, quickly masking sorrow with a soft smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Want to talk about it?" he asks, knowing the answer before she shakes her head.

"It's nothing," she says as he recites the words she's repeated over and over in his head. It's always nothing, but he knows better and doesn't want to push yet. "I just . . . I'm ready to go home."

He can't help the grin spreading across his face at the word. It's about damn time he's taking his baby girl home.

* * *

"I used to braid your mom's hair just like this," Esme says, smiling at the memory as they wait for Edward to turn. "I would sometimes put a ribbon in it, too."

Harlow nods. "Mom did the same. No wonder this reminds me of her." Her heart aches, knowing it's been over six months since the last time she saw her and so much could have happened. Her nana's touch feels similar in so many ways, but it's not exactly the same. "I miss her so much."

Tears fill Esme's eyes, but she tries to hide the tidal wave of emotion as she puts down the hairbrush. "Oh, sweetheart, I do too. She was such a special little girl and you remind me so much of her at your age. We'd call her an old soul because she was too mature for her age—like you. It seemed she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders sometimes, but . . . that was Bella. Our Bella."

She made their family complete, to be honest. She and Edward were always so, so close—inseparable at times, so she truly felt as if she lost her own daughter when Bella went missing. The idea that she's out there somewhere and has been for so long breaks Esme's heart into a million pieces. Fifteen years stolen away, for what? That's what she wants to know. Who could be so heinous to have taken a _pregnant_ woman from a car accident? Was it even an accident in the first place? She's torn to shreds but also furious at the person responsible, and while she's not usually one for violence, she'd love to get her hands around their neck.

"It's going to be okay, Harlow," Esme says, wiping her granddaughter's soft cheeks. "We're going to find her. I know it in my heart." She smiles to comfort Harlow, but in reality she isn't so sure. There's so much unknown and it seems like an impossible feat.

Before Harlow can respond, there's a knock on the door and a strange man comes in with a wheelchair. She doesn't recognize him and slightly shrinks away as Esme looks up to read his badge. _Riley._

"I'm here to take you both downstairs. Dr. Cullen is waiting outside," he says, pushing the chair close as she checks her phone. No messages from Edward, which is strange if he's waiting for them.

She cocks her head slightly, looking at the young man closely. "Did he call? I haven't gotten any messages that he's here. Do you have her paperwork?"

"Dr. Cullen does," he says, almost if he's bored. "You probably don't have a good signal or something. Are you ready?"

Harlow nods, wanting nothing more than to get out of this hospital she's been trapped in for two weeks. Granted, she doesn't remember the first week what with the unconsciousness, but she woke up ready to leave. Esme's a little unsure, but the orderly does have credentials and she knows coverage has been a little spotty. She brushes the strange feeling off as overprotectiveness and quickly helps Harlow into the wheelchair before putting the small duffle bag over her shoulder.

* * *

While Esme helps Harlow get ready, Edward heads back to his apartment to pack up his own things. He hasn't been home since Harlow was hit, but his parents have been staying there and packing it up between visits. He turned in his resignation three days after Harlow woke up, knowing he couldn't keep her here and in a way, it seemed right to take her to Forks. He bought Charlie's house right after he passed, paying off the loan he'd taken against it to pay for private investigators. He never believed Bella died, saying he'd _feel_ it, but detective after detective couldn't find a damn thing and he put every dime he had into the search. Edward and his family helped, Charlie wouldn't take much. He said he didn't need anything except Bella.

 _And I fucking moved on,_ he thinks, unlocking his front door and heading inside. He's quick to pack up his clothes and throws the bags in his truck, saving the safe for last. While there are four handguns and two rifles inside, only one of them is his. Considering she stays with him or on base when she's stateside, Kate keeps important things with him and he's incredibly thankful for it now. He packs up the ammo and puts the guns in their cases, storing them under the backseat in his truck before his phone suddenly rings. As if her ears are burning, it's her face on his screen and he quickly answers as he slides into the front seat.

"Thank Christ," he says, feeling the weight of the last few weeks coming down on him. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" she asks, her voice just as teasing as usual. "I think you've had a more eventful time than I have. Holy shit, Edward! Your daughter is _alive?_ How is that even . . . where the hell—"

"I still have a shitload of questions myself, Kate. Where are you? Back in the US yet?"

She sighs and he braces himself during the silence afterwards. "I have another mission. I'm so sorry. I know I need to be there, but I can't—"

"You can't disregard orders," he finishes for her. "No chance of leave?"

"I'm afraid not right now. I'm . . . in the middle of something. I can't really stay on the phone too long, either. I'm between planes right now."

He cocks his brow, wondering what the hell she's gotten herself into this time. He tries to listen for background noise, but it's silent. "I get it, but, uh . . . I do have one favor."

"Of course, anything."

"I'm going to need to borrow your guns."

"Edward, what are you going to do?"

He shakes his head to himself, looking around the parking garage. "Nothing, but I don't know what exactly Harlow is associated with. The FBI isn't sure if the man who ran her over is involved in her disappearance, but it's still a possibility. I just want to be prepared."

"Be careful and don't do anything I wouldn't do," she teases sadly. "Just take care of her and I promise I'll be back as soon as I can. I can't wait to meet her, love."

"You'll like her." He smiles, wishing her good luck on whatever incredibly dangerous thing she's doing and asking her to keep in touch when possible. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he realizes it's past one—when he told Esme he'd be back. He shoots her a quick text before pulling out and making the short drive back.

He parks close to the main entrance and ducks inside, taking the stairs up to the third floor with a damn skip in his step. He can't wait to have Harlow out of this city and in a place they can make a home. Forks was his home for most of his young life until his parents moved to Port Angeles and he went to college, and it _would_ have been Harlow's home too. He and Bella always planned on moving home after school and his military contract, so, again, it seems right make this sudden move.

As he passes the nurses station, he waves at Leah and she creases her brow. "Forget something?" she asks, standing up from her desk.

"Yeah, my daughter," he chuckles, turning into the room to find it completely empty. "Leah?"

"An orderly took them downstairs about five minutes ago," she says, quickly coming to his side with a worrisome expression. "You didn't call?"

His entire world crashes around him as he bolts from the room, yelling for his mom and Harlow. He tells security to lock down the hospital and call the police before tearing open the stairwell door and running down. _This isn't happening,_ he thinks as he gets to the main lobby and heads for the parking garage. They could easily get that far in five minutes and it seems like the most logical place to him. _They could have gone to the loading dock too, though._

"Harlow!" he yells and his voice echoes off the concrete structure. "Mom!"

He hears a blood curdling scream somewhere nearby and follows it up one level. When he runs out of the stairwell, though, the sight before him is nothing as he expects and something he'll _never_ forget. He can't even process it right away, taking a few seconds and multiple glances to understand. His mom is holding a Taser and repeatedly hits the trigger as a man in scrubs lays in the fetal position, screaming like an infant

"Put a gun in my back again, you son of a bitch!" she screams, continuing to inflict as much pain as possible. "You lying piece of—Edward!" She stops for a second, as he runs over, flipping the man on his stomach and putting a knee in his back.

Considering where the Taser landed on him, Edward doubts he's going anywhere but he'd rather be safe than sorry. "When did you get a Taser?" he asks incredulously as she hits it again. "Stop!"

"I just want to be sure!" she yells back, tossing him the gun.

He disconnects it, leaving the prongs in place for someone more qualified in urology than him. It's definitely going to leave a mark, which Edward can't seem to feel sorry for. "Who are you?" he asks, pressing his knee into the guy's back. "Tell me!"

"F-Fuck you," he coughs out, gasping for relief.

Edward wants to smash his face into the concrete, but he's surprisingly in control and possible still reeling from the sight of his mom standing over a man as she tased his testicals. Harlow's cries keep him from giving in to his deepest desires and he watches as Esme wraps her arms around her. "Are you both okay?"

She nods, pressing a kiss to Harlow's temple. "He didn't hurt us."

Leaning down closer to the piece of shit, he whispers, "You're lucky I'm not willing to kill someone in front of them. Now, who the _fuck_ sent you?"

Groaning in pain, he shakes his head before Edward puts more pressure on him and he cries out. "My fucking balls, man!"

"Are probably not going to make it if you keep struggling and I start pulling these cords," he sneers, grabbing them and tugging just enough to get his point across. "Again, who sent you? Think about your answer _very_ carefully."

"Caius!" he grunts out as red and blue lights come up the ramp across the garage. Edward takes a moment to look at Harlow, finding her white as a sheet as the two look at each other. "She's dead."

Letting his control slip for a second, he jerks the man's arm back and hears a satisfying pop while he screams until he passes out. He knows full well this isn't over and whoever the hell Caius is won't stop at just one goon, but having a name to go on is a start.

* * *

I just plain suck. I've rewritten this chapter about 50 times and I'm still not 100% happy, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer. Also, I did have to go back to chapter one and make one small change because I wasn't thinking clearly. Jasper is Alice's husband, not a nurse in the ER.

I can't thank you all enough for sticking with me. Now that the actual meat part of this story is starting, I'm hoping to get a little more regular in posting. My outline is a bit more concrete now, so if Edward cooperates, we should be good. Much, much, much love!


	5. Chapter 5

Harlow keeps her eyes on the wooden table between herself and the FBI agents as she tries to figure out where the heck to start. There's so much to say and she's not sure what's most important—or too dangerous to tell them. She's thankful for the small reprieve she had when the agents let her dad drive her to their office, but it wasn't quite long enough to organize her thoughts. Her head already hurts what with the whole, brain surgery thing, and trying to sort all the little details only makes it worse. She scrubs her uninjured hand across her forehead and decides to just start talking, hoping it all makes sense.

"I lived on the ranch my entire life, but I can't tell you where it is. I-I don't know if Mom's still alive, but she was about six months ago when they came for me. She'd made a deal a long time ago, but . . . well, they broke it. She always feared they would, so she told me if I ever had the opportunity, to run and never look back." She glances at her father beside her, shrugging. "I . . . I couldn't do that, though. You were too close."

A part of Edward wonders if that would have been better for her, but he quickly squashes the thought. Absolutely not. After today he plans on never leaving her alone again, so she's safe. Out there, all alone, she'd still be lost and in danger.

He takes her hand, pressing her knuckles to his lips. "I wish you'd never been hurt, but I'm glad you found me, little Lo. I swear I'll never let anyone bad near you again."

She wishes that could be true, but from what she knows of the world, even the guys who should be good are bad. The agents in front of her may be decent people, but right now she doesn't trust them and she's only talking to them because of Esme. She put her grandmother in danger and can't risk anyone else getting hurt because of her.

"Does the name Caius mean anything to you?" Garrett asks, tapping his pen against his notepad.

She nods. "He's Aro's younger brother. I've only met him a few times, but Momma told me not to talk to him unless I had to. He didn't like the deal Aro made with Mom."

Victoria's typing something on the tablet in her hands, but looks up to ask, "What deal?"

"They didn't know Mom was pregnant when they took her. S-She had to make a deal with them . . . for me. Everything was for me. I-I don't know all the details, but the main thing was that she wouldn't t-try to escape. She could keep me, but she belonged to _him._ "

 _And now Momma's all alone. Maybe even dead,_ she thinks as tears roll down her cheeks. "S-Sorry," she sniffles as Victoria pulls a small pack of tissues from her jacket pocket and slides them across the table. She can't help but think of what her mom could be going through. Is Caius's threat serious? If so, she can't imagine Aro being okay with that. Aro may be an awful man, but in some disgustingly sick way, he loves Bella. He wouldn't have kept her alive if he didn't.

"Just take your time," Garrett says. Victoria pushes her tablet over to him, letting him read what she found. Her expression gives nothing away while his eyes widen and brows shoot up in surprise. Everyone notices it and Edward can't help himself.

"What did you just find?"

Victoria takes the tablet back, messing around with it for a few moments before speaking. "Can you tell me if this is Aro, Harlow?

Considering the fact that his face is seared into her memory, she quickly nods and Victoria pushes the tablet over to her. The moment she sees those hard-gray eyes, she blurts, "Yes. H-How did you know?" She looks up at the agent, cocking her head. "H-How did you find his picture?"

Victoria tries to hide a smile as she realizes she's just landed the case of her career. This isn't about her, she reminds herself. "He's been suspected of numerous crimes, and with such a unique name, it seemed possible. Are you positive this is him?"

She nods fervently. "He's one of the few people I've known my entire life. Yes, I'm sure."

Edward decides to speak up, asking, "Do you know where he is?"

Garrett shakes his head. "Elusive bastard. He's wanted by Interpol for questioning as well. But if we can find this ranch . . . Harlow, can you tell us about it? What the land looked like—was it hilly, flat, grassy, or sandy?"

"Grassy and kinda hilly, I guess," she says. "We had animals—some horses, cattle, chickens, pigs, and a _lot_ of cats. Momma and I helped take care of them. We lived in a cabin behind the main house."

"Was Aro there a lot?" Garrett asks.

"Almost every weekend. Most of the time he'd just spend time with Momma, but every couple months he'd throw a party or have some kind of important dinner."

She absolutely hated when those happened. She spent the time either confined to the cabin, left alone and scared, or in her later years, dragged out and paraded like a prize. It sickened her to see Aro holding her Mom in his arms and it was gut-wrenching to hear her Mom cry in the middle of the night afterwards. Those parties were horrible—as were the people who attended them.

"Can you tell us about the parties?" Victoria asks.

"The main house would fill with guests and they would always be dressed really fancy. Mom would have to be with Aro at all times. I only started going a year or so ago and Mom tried so hard to change Aro's mind about having me there, but he wouldn't budge. I once overheard him tell her that I wouldn't be a child forever. And . . . well, six months ago, he decided I wasn't anymore and Davis bought me."

" _Bought_ you?" Edward asks as he feels his stomach churn. Images fill his head and pure, unadulterated rage course through him. Someone thought they could _own_ his little girl? "He fu—"

"Dr. Cullen," Victoria says sharply, glaring at him before her eyes cut to his little girl beside him. Her sniffles have turned into soft sobs as she covers her eyes. "Harlow, you don't have to push yourself."

 _She's terrified. God . . . she looks ashamed,_ Edward thinks, feeling his heart shatter at the sight before him. His fists are both clenched tightly and he doesn't even recall pulling his hand from hers. "I'm so sorry, Lo," he says, reaching out to touch her before she flinches. _Fuck, she's afraid of me._ His rage is replaced with guilt as he rushes to apologize. "I'm sorry. I _love_ you, Harlow. Baby girl, I will never hurt you. I am _so, so_ sorry for my reaction. Please, please, don't be afraid of me."

Her soft gasp fills the room as she drops and shakes her head. "N-No, I-I'm not—"

"I understand," he assures her, wrapping an arm cautiously around her shoulders. She doesn't shrug him off and presses deeper into his chest instead. It's awkward with the wheelchair between them, but he doesn't let her go and waits for her to pull away first. When she does, her cries have softened and she sniffles as he wipes away the tears from her red cheeks. "Take your time, baby girl. Do you need some water?"

She nods and Victoria decides it's time for a short break. Garrett says he'll be back shortly, sharing a conspicuous look with his partner before leaving them alone. Edward grabs out the water and small apple juice his mom packed, opening them up for Harlow. They've only been at this for about a half hour, but he can tell she's already getting tired—which is entirely expected after all she's been through.

"Let me know when you're ready to leave, okay?" he asks her and she nods, pulling away the straw from the juice.

"I just . . . wanna say a little more," she tells him, meeting his gaze. "Mom needs me to."

He sighs, nodding as he gently squeezes her shoulder. "Whatever you need to say."

From across the table, Victoria clears her throat and pushes her chair back. "It's all on your time, Harlow. Dr. Cullen, would you mind having a quick word outside? It'll just take a moment, I promise."

He doesn't like the idea of leaving Harlow alone, but he does have a few questions he wants answers to. Kissing his daughter's temple, he swears he'll be right back and follows Victoria out of the small room. Instead of stopping, she leads him into the room next door, which features of clear few of Harlow sipping her drinks.

"Who's been in here?" he asks.

"Just our boss," she says. "Honestly, Dr. Cullen, I can't thank you enough for letting her speak with us. I know it's been rough on her."

He leans against the wall, sighing as he scrubs a hand over his jaw. _As if I had a choice._ "When you find the son of a bitch who _bought_ her, I want five minutes alone with him."

"You know no one will give you that, but I can assure you he'll pay for it. I know you're enraged and I can't imagine how hard this has been on you—and especially her—but if what we suspect is correct, she's just saved possibly hundreds of lives."

He shakes his head, reeling from everything Harlow said. "She's braver than I am. I . . . I still can't believe all of this. Who the fuck is this Aro guy?"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Aro Venturi. He's a very bad guy, to say the least. Drugs, women, weapons, he's been into it all. No one has been able to nail him before."

"The mob?" Edward hisses.

She seems to debate it for a moment, but nods. "Organized crime. He's a very smart, rich man with a lot of good friends."

"So, the guy who hit her? Is he involved?"

"We're not sure yet, but with everything she's given us, we'll find a connection if there is one. I'll be honest with you, the more I've talked to him, the less I think it was intentional. He's got a gambling problem, which is where is mob ties come in. That's not exactly Venturi's territory. But again, we're not sure yet."

"Is she going to be safe in Forks?" he asks, wondering if he shouldn't make other plans. Maybe have his parents take her somewhere far away while he figures out how to keep her safe and get Bella back. He has to believe she's alive.

"We'll have someone stationed outside at all times and Garrett or I will be in touch daily," Victoria says. "If you notice anything out of the ordinary whatsoever, call us. Both Forks police and Clallam county are on alert."

"Good. Let's get back in there. She looks like she's about to fall asleep on us." He tilts his head toward the window, feeling a small curl to his lip as he watches her head bob gently and eyes nearly close. _She's fucking cute. And just like her mom._ Usually he'd find Bella like that with a book in her hand late at night.

Once they get back in and Garrett returns, Edward takes Harlow's hand and they listen as she recounts her early life with Bella. It sounds strangely normal, considering Bella protected and sheltered their daughter for as long as she could. Harlow had no idea anything was even amiss until she was about six or seven and found a box Bella had hidden under a floorboard in their cabin. She had the picture, a lock of Harlow's baby hair, and a newspaper article about her death. Knowing enough to understand what the article was about, she went to Bella who told her _some_ of the truth. Their life wasn't normal and they weren't free to leave.

Still, with the deal she was _supposed_ to be safe. They both were. But then she grew up and Davis came along. Aro had never given any indication that he'd get rid of her. She thought as long as she did everything she was told, she was safe.

"I know this is difficult, but how did your mom react when Aro made the deal with Davis?" Garrett asks.

Looking around the small room and into the mirror behind the agents, Harlow's eyes once again fill with tears as she shakes her head. "I-I didn't get to . . . say goodbye."

It happened so fast. Her mom was in the main house doing something for Aro and she was alone in their little cabin, sitting on the floor reading a book. Caius came in with Felix behind him and they just grabbed her—put an actual hood over her head and tossed her in the back of a car. They drove for hours and it felt like an eternity before their first stop. They took the hood off her to walk her into the hotel and threatened to kill everyone if she so much as tried to flag down someone. The guns on their belts told her not to test them.

Edward watches her closely as she subduedly tells them a little about meeting Davis and it's obvious it's too much for her. She's been doing so well and he's in absolute awe of her bravery, but she's just begun her long recovery and right now she needs to rest. A huge part of him didn't want to put her through this today, but he just didn't have much of a choice.

"Why don't we pick this up again in a day or two?" he asks, looking between the two agents. "She's exhausted and I need to get her home."

Victoria nods in agreement. "I think we're at a good stopping point," she says. "You've given us a lot, Harlow. We'll come to you in Forks the next time you're ready, all right?"

"Thank you," he says, pushing his chair back and standing up. As he goes to unlock the brakes on Harlow's wheelchair, Garrett decides to ask one more question.

"Riley said, 'She's dead,' before you were taken away from him, right?"

Harlow nods. "Like I said, Caius never agreed with Aro's deal. He's going to kill my mom—if he hasn't already."

The words send a knife through Edward's heart. Bella's been alive this long and now . . . It's like she's drowning and can't even brush her fingertips. She's sinking deeper each second and it's all he can do to keep reaching. He failed her for fifteen years, but he can't fail her now. He knows he has friends from his time in the service who can help him and it's time to call in those favors they promised. He won't give up this time. If the FBI can't get his wife back, he will.

Truthfully, Edward doesn't know how much he believes in the FBI, considering it's taken this long for them to finally start looking for Bella. Maybe if they'd taken into account every single detail of the night Bella went missing, they could have found a connection sooner. Maybe they could have saved her, but instead the powers at be said she was dead and stopped looking. _He_ should have tried harder, searched longer, and investigated more.

But in the end, what he should have done or what they should have done doesn't matter. Everyone failed Bella and Harlow and it's resulted in a lifetime of pain and suffering for his own little girl.

* * *

The drive to Forks takes about four hours. It's just the two of them since his parents went home to Port Angeles after Esme spoke to the agents, and Harlow is sleeping somewhat comfortably in the passenger seat with countless pillows stuffed everywhere. The quiet gives him time to think and formulate a plan. He's calling his friend Jake first thing in the morning. After serving together for years—and patching the guy up a few dozen times—they became good friends, and Edward knows that if anyone can help him, it's The Wolf.

The nickname brings a little smile to his lips, remembering some of their good times. And also how if it wasn't Kate getting him into trouble, it was Jake. It's a different world over there and between the long days, the sand, the heat, more sand, the injuries, and the dying, it wasn't easy to keep your spirits up. And Edward found it particularly difficult. He worked. He slept. He exercised. But he didn't live. Jake made him remember how to sometimes.

He'd come back from an assignment usually injured in some way, but he had a hell of a story for each time. Edward would patch him up and they'd have a drink—which wasn't exactly allowed— shoot the shit, and somehow wind up fucking something up. Of course Collin, Brady, and Felix didn't help matters. But it blew off some of the steam. It made hell a little less hot, which they all needed. Every soldier did. In the end, though, The Wolf always got them out of trouble with their superiors. How? He doesn't want to know.

He should have told him about Harlow already, but he just hasn't been up to talking to people about it all. He still can't wrap his head around the fact that his daughter is alive and Bella . . . she could be too. She has to be. Jake will help him figure out what to do and where to start. As he looks over at Harlow, he's sure of it. He has to get her mom back.

Turning onto Spruce drive, Edward sees Charlie's old house down the street and notices the pink balloons on the mailbox—definitely Alice's doing. The last time he was here he said goodbye to Charlie. It was a heart attack, but Edward blames the loss of his daughter more than any clogged artery. She was literally the light of his life. Without her, he extinguished and Edward decided he couldn't let the house go to someone who didn't appreciate it.

It's not as if he planned on living in it, but it's _Bella's house._ Her height is etched in the kitchen door frame, her handprints are on the sidewalk out front, and their initials are carved into the big tree outside of her window. The memories in its walls belong to Bella and Charlie, and Edward couldn't let that change. As long as he was alive and this house stood, part of them was still here.

And now, what better place to bring his and Bella's daughter home to?

Stopping his truck in the driveway, Edward has to get out to open the garage door since Charlie never got around to updating it. What he finds is a hell of a lot of boxes and no room for his truck. _Item one on my list_ , he sighs and heads up to the front door to unlock it before getting Harlow out of the truck. She's been out cold for the last three hours and spent the hour before that apologizing to him. He pulled over three times just to hold her as she sobbed, and he still feels awful for putting her through such a long drive after the day they had.

"All right, let's see if I can do this," he says to himself, sliding his arms under her small form. The casts make it a little hard to maneuver her, but he manages to get her out and into the house without disturbing her, leaving a pool of pillows behind him on the driveway.

He steps through the door and flips on the lights to find a banner and an abundance of pink balloons. "Welcome home, Little Lo," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple.

* * *

Yeah, I'm just as shocked that I finished this chapter as you. I'm so sorry for the long wait, I'm a Mrs now and wedding planning was sooo stressful and kind of killed my muse. But, it was the best day of my life and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I am so sorry about that like year long cliff-hanger, by the way. ILY and thank you!


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